Frankenstein’s Bastard – A.G. Diedericks

Richard Rothwell’s portrait of Mary Shelley ~ 1840
Frankenstein’s Bastard

I malformed
from aborted bloodbaths
to bite the hands
of a kleptomaniac midwife

Dear Frankenstein

Do I,
embolden your bestial apathy
with my woes?
Am I,
merely a pantomime
for the parochial aristocracy?

fated to this warped pestilence — the stench of patricide gestates in my throat

My heart is a contaminant; an abberation that anchors the intonation of a lover’s gaze

felicity dwindles in my wake,
it dare not breach
the elongated visage of my
consumption

I am shrouded
by an opulent darkness
that fosters the penury of my soul

there’s no alienist for what lives inside of me

My bones scythe a fissure in empiric science

I am the reification of death:
cobbled by inviolable skin
with ears to inoculate the
incantation of an exorcist
My iris blackens the convex of your erstwhile sun

Halcyon birds

Plummets where i walk

. . .

Dear Frankenstein

You, who molded me from madness;
map me a path to digress from this
metastasized matter
place me in an era,
where the kinship of poetry
have not forsaken me
Where even I,
tread with shadows bereft

35 thoughts on “Frankenstein’s Bastard – A.G. Diedericks

  1. A.G., I love this!!! Each line is filled with so much meaning…
    But these particular lines express the theme of the whole piece with vivid expression…
    “I am shrouded
    by an opulent darkness
    that fosters the penury of my soul

    there’s no alienist for what lives inside of me”

    I love the image of opulent darkness.
    Opulence: rich, luxurious splendour…to match this with darkness is very a propos and really drives home just how far gone you are…but there is also beauty in these lines: an opulent darkness sounds almost inviting. I wouldn’t mind joining you in such a space… ; )

    And, “…no alienist for what lives inside of you”, again, we are reminded that you are beyond repair. But of course a psychiatrist couldn’t help someone in your state!

    I love the rich, Victorian-era style of writing, as well. It is evocative of the time and feelings you are describing. (The only thing missing is a traditional Victorian style flower arrangement) ; )…Perhaps some wilting, black roses…?

    At the end, I sense some hope…”You, who molded me from madness;
    map me a path to digress from this…” Is it possible? Could you escape the madness?

    AMAZING!

    ~Wilde xo

    Liked by 6 people

    • Wilde, you’ve assimilated this piece so beautifully. And I can’t thank you enough! Your in-depth analysis of mine, and the other members’ work is an incredible asset for MP. The darkness has definitely become too comfortable to a point where it almost feels opulent. I’ve resonated with this character for more than a month now that it felt like I was writing about myself. No alienist can help. — I’m a Victorian novice, therefore your comment is even more appreciated.

      there might be hope, though. Like you pointed out 🙂

      -A.G. Keeping a space for you.

      Liked by 5 people

    • I am having trouble deciding which line I like best, though these ones sticks out to me as particularly profound:

      “I am the reification of death:
      cobbled by inviolable skin
      with ears to inoculate the
      incantation of an exorcist
      My iris blackens the convex of your erstwhile sun”

      And once again, I must reiterate that your vocabulary is profound – you utilize new and dazzling words at just the write moments and without turning your poetry overly academic. I’m in awe at how you strike that balance. I’m also replying under this comment because wow, I don’t think I could give a better analysis than this one here!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. To me this almost epitomises the struggle of acceptance that people experience when trying to be themselves. Your language works effectively somewhere between the Victorian Gothic and sparceness of minimalist writing. I’m impressed.

    Liked by 6 people

  3. You could make me sell my soul to the devil. That’s how persuasive your writing is.
    The Gothic mystery is ultimately always a psychological one, right? The demons are not outside, in unknown and unknowable gods and spirits, but within us.
    An excellent piece, A.G.

    Liked by 1 person

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